


His name is B.I

by sin0sijak



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Class Differences, Futuristic AU set in a restrictive society, M/M, TW: negativity, don't worry too much; I don't do horrible endings, tw: depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:45:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sin0sijak/pseuds/sin0sijak
Summary: Bobby wonders if he hates B.I because he’s always winning or because he’s conveniently there to be hated. If it were anybody else, would Bobby hate them just as much? And when B.I suddenly confesses that he wants to quit, to retire, to stop this illegal money making grab, Bobby finally asks the important question that was always lingering in his mind - “What am I without him?”





	His name is B.I

**Year 3707, SeoulCity, Korean Peninsula, SectorA3**

Bobby wouldn’t necessarily say he’s born ready, but he knows for sure he never gets ‘the jitters’ so many people worry about. People pass him by with jealous gleams in their eyes as he sits and hums to his own tune, tapping his fingers on his thighs to a rhythm he wrote, and beams at them with aggressive spite. It’s a relatively pleasent way to silently say, fuck you. His infamously intimidating crescent eyes. Of course, nobody could see the rest of his covered face.

As much as this was all illegal the adrenaline is as high as the risks. Bobby can barely peek over the metal fences that hide backstage to see roaring fans. Young women and men alike who are actually part of the elite and can afford to be here. Afford to take a gamble, afford to bet on their designated rapper, afford to be sponsors, and most of all, afford to be caught.

They say society has advanced.

The history books he’s smuggled say that despite it all, human nature is still the same.

Everything is ‘affordable’ if you’re rich. 

Even crime.

So here he was, top of the 1% in his Sector that encompassed what used to be known as the continent of Eurasia, ready to risk the chance of being caught for participating in a rap battle that all the authorities already knew was happening but didn’t bother to shut down because a lot of money flowed out of it.

He had nothing to lose.

If caught, he paid an unimaginable fine to hush it all up and let it slide like a speck of dust on his spotless record. But again, he could easily afford that.

Perhaps that’s why he wasn’t very nervous.

On the other side he sees the exact opposite. Hand over his heart, blowing breaths out and moving the bandana covering his face, Bobby’s opponent is praying fervently to God knows who? He doesn’t even look like he knows. His lips simply move under the cloth safe guarding his identity, then stop, then start up again, but is he practicing with his eyes screwed shut or praying? Bobby never asked and he never planned to.

Bobby’s lips pursed automatically while intently studying the bastard he’s always up against. This “B.I” - They call him the “genius lyricsts” the “underdog who made it to the climax.” Nobody has an inkling as to where he came from, who his original sponsor was, or how he made it this far despite totally messing up and going “nanananan nanananna na” on his first showing, yet here he was. From the icon of forgotten lyrics to a literal icon of unique flow.

No coach. No training, obviously. His clothes weren’t from fancy sponsors and they said that all the money he ever won magically disappeared.

For drugs? For his hidden family? For school? How old was this guy anyway?

He always silently walked into the underground venue like a shadow and quickly walked out without a trace against the night.

No fancy car.

No friends surrounding him or partying to celebrate his many accomplished wins.

Literally a nobody.

Probably a street rat.

Bobby’s sworn enemy. He hated that kid, whatever his age was, he sounded like a kid. He seemed like a kid. Where was he wasting all that money, anyway? Why did his lyrics always scream about emptiness, the void of nothingness, the deep meaning of loneliness; such mature concepts. Yet he didn’t know the basics of investment?

The audience came to have fun. To jump and party and forget about the suffocatingly uniform and boring world outside. They came to let loose. They came to watch and fawn and wow over the bling on flashy rappers who were the epitome of a charismatic ‘$wag’ of the old days before. Not be schooled about life’s sorrows from a street rat.

Yet.

Somehow.

In the end, B.I almost always came out as the winner.

The king.

Even though everybody bounced along with him, screamed his name, bathed in the water he sprinkled over them in his fit of absolute euphoria. Despite all the girls crying “BOBBY OPPA!!!” in the stands and hungrily skimming their hands over his abs. Despite the boys chanting “BOBBY HYUNG! HYUNG!” and respecting him for his mannerism without knowing if he’s older, younger, or the same age as them. Despite it all.

B.I won.

9 out of 10 times, B.I was taking the hefty suitcase full of money home.

It wasn’t the money Bobby was after. He didn’t need any more. He could burn money. He could throw it out of his penthouse windows for fun. He could sprinkle it out as charity if he felt like it. He could tip a waiter enough to feed a small country in SectorB18.

Screw the damn money.

But it’s the title.

Winner of “Show me the Money”

Underground rapper of the Sector.

A chance to go out on the King of Kings and crush everybody.

B.I always won that chance, and he always took that title. And then he fucking walked home on his own two legs like it was no big deal. Like it was just an obvious necessity to win for him. He didn’t get shitface drunk and have girls or boys hanging off his arms, he didn’t laugh boisterously and load the money into a cash gun to hype the party. He didn’t even come up to Bobby to brag or curse him out in happiness - he didn’t even acknowledge Bobby on the way out.

He hung his head, hugged the case, and left.

Left all the losers behind him, bitterly clapping and drinking away their crushed pride and defeated dreams.

What made him think he was so much better than them? Who the hell did that nobody think he was? Why, in this society where they needed to let loose and forget about everything, forget about reality, did the one preaching about realism always win?

Bobby hated that. Hated him. B.I or whatever. One day, Bobby would reverse the tides and show that truly, this generation needed a rapper like him. The one who burned the night, lived for the moment, ignited hearts.

Not one who drowned them all with tears.

* * *

“He’s the scholarship student?”

Chanwoo elbows him to shush up.

“What’s his name?” Jiwon asks, persistent.

“Kim Hanbin. Apparently his family is in a very unfortunate place, and he wasn’t always crazy smart, but he’s hella determined. It’s almost scary. They say he locked up for 2 months, memorized the Three Pillar Texts and aced the exam over everyone else.”

Jiwon whistles, although he doesn’t know how true that rumor was, rumors always started from a base. If any of that was true then Hanbin was an incredible dude.

“He’s kinda cute, right?” Jiwon asks, wanting to confirm if he was the only one who felt this way.

Jinhwan snickers, “Why are you even asking? Dude’s driven and oh~~ that nose. I’d make my home on his face. That’s called fucking hot!”

“Okay listen here you bishes-- SHHKAKK! WE GOTTA GO!” Chanwoo frantically jerks his hyungs away and starts walking when Hanbin looks up curiously in their direction and tilts his head like he’s unsure if his instincts were correct in assuming they were talking about him.

***

Hanbin, on the other hand, is left clueless as three very peculiar looking classmates (who are wearing the same uniform as him so they must be going to the same UniverCity) stumble away frantically while giggling and whispering to each other.

A tinge of jealousy starts uncomfortably bubbling inside of him, but he shakes his head and quickly quells it down to nothing but a simmer. Friends and a normal life to him are a luxury he can’t afford.

He’s the school’s lucky one in a million scholarship student, after all.

* * *

“Have you been here all day?” the raspy yet light hearted voice pulls Hanbin out of his book and makes him bite his lip in worry. He had a terrible habit of humming tunes when he was studying and some of them weren’t officially approved by the GovernRing Court. Usually Hanbin controls himself, or listens to lessons that are pre recorded using his In-Ear tutor pod which prevent his mind from wandering far enough to hum, but he really thought he was alone in the library.

“Y-yeah.”

“Wow. You’re pretty determined.”

Hanbin notices it’s the same student he saw that morning, walking away with his group of friends. He wonders what the odds are that the same guy was back. Maybe they really were talking about him? He did feel like they were looking in his direction an awful lot, and besides, this boy in particular was holding his Glass Tablet upside down. The encrypted texts were shooting up instead of down. That’s why Hanbin had first noticed them anyway. Because, as he thought, they were peculiar.

Said student invites himself to sit across from Hanbin at the table as if his name were written on there and he had a reservation. Although he’s not really thrilled with the notion that he’ll have to take time away from his study to entertain a stranger the stranger sets down a glass bottle of coffee. It’s the good stuff too, not from their cafeteria, or a Ground Level drugstore, but one of the high end cafes. The ones that were quite literally ‘high’ end. In which one need a Flyer to get to because they were suspended on artificial man-made clouds. A cup Hanbin’s personally never sipped from before because he didn’t have a Flyer.

Ah. So this student was one of them.

The elite.

“I don’t really drink co-”

“But I saw you get one from the cafeteria lady this morning,” the strange student quips, a winning grin on his happy-go-lucky face.

“Thank you,” Hanbin flushes slightly as he awkwardly makes to grab the cup. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even asked if it was for him and the student never offered it. He had jumped to a conclusion. His face turns a deeper shade of red at that.

“My name’s Jiwon. Last name’s Kim. Just like you!” Jiwon beams, “put together it’s Kim Jiwon.”

Right.

Hanbin wants to snort. Like he couldn’t even do something as simple as putting a name together. If he snorts now though the overly expensive coffee would probably shoot out of his nose, so he manages to reign in his instincts.

“I heard you humming- WOAH!”

Forget reigning himself in. He just spit a whole gulp of coffee all over the table and onto Kim Jiwon.

“Oh my God! I am so so s-”

Jiwon laughs.

He actually tosses his head back to cackle in glee, his shoulders going up and down, gripping his stomach. While he makes sounds similar to a squawking bird, Jiwon swings his arms widely from side to side telling him not to worry about it.

How this boy finds all of this amusing? Hanbin has no clue.

He’s dumbfounded. Interested. Intrigued by this Kim Jiwon. But also… afraid.

What was this behavior? Who was this guy and what did he want?

“I shouldn’t have suddenly brought up such a serious topic while you were drinking,” Jiwon’s wiping away tears as he quickly dabbles the liquid that’s fanned out on the table with a nice looking handkerchief. Hanbin’s rendered speechless when Jiwon starts picking up the notes that were splayed across the surface and muttering about what a shame it was that some of them were now smudged.

“I’m glad you didn’t get your Glass Tablet ruined! Those things are a hassle to fix, and even more expensive to get replaced. Getting the Dean to approve a switch would be pretty hard if your story is I spit coffee all over it,” Jiwon cracks up like the image he just rendered was hilarious.

Hanbin can’t help but smirk. Okay. UniverCity president Yang flipping out over a ruined Glass Tablet would kinda be nice to see, actually.

“About you humming thou-” Jiwon’s eyes widen, and so does Hanbin’s when he finds himself instinctively lunged over the table, using both hands to cover Jiwon’s mouth from spilling any more secrets.

“Shhh! Shh! Please be quiet! Please!

Jiwon just smiles from under Hanbin’s hands and for some reason it’s not reassuring, even though it’s possible that Jiwon meant for it to be. Hanbin has a peculiar churning in his stomach that tells him to watch out for this Kim Jiwon. Those eyes speak of mischief and danger that’s far beyond just ‘bad boy.’ Hanbin’s seen plenty of bad boys - tough guys who have internalized problems festering endlessly until it explodes, but Kim Jiwon is scarier than that.

He’s completely himself.

And he’s nothing all at once.

That’s right. That’s what it was.

Hanbin sees nothing in those eyes.

As if someone put a thick dark pane between them, when Hanbin peers down to see Jiwon’s soul he’s met with his own reflection that’s futilely searching with no return.

They’re just like his own eyes.

Hanbin retracts his hands like he’s been burned, but Jiwon’s still smiling, crooked bunny teeth on full display.

“You should loosen up a little,” Jiwon suggests. His tone is light. The words he implies? Not so much.

“I’d rather not.” Hanbin truthfully quips, sitting back down in his chair.

“Why?” Jiwon tilts his head and rests his chin on the back of the chair that he’s been slumped in.

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“Don’t you like living on the edge? It’s better than living this bland old life,” Jiwon flips a notebook that was peeping over the edge of Hanbin’s desk making it flop in the process.

Hanbin’s face turns serious as he looks at his stuff neatly labeled by subject and professor. “It’s better than not having a life at all.”

Jiwon whistles as he sits back, interlacing his fingers behind his own head, “deep, aren’t we?”

Hanbin lets out a low laugh, “why? What’d you expect from me?”

Jiwon shrugs.

“Am I just like you?” Hanbin asks.

He doesn’t know what prompts the question. Actually, scratch that. He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to ask and why he’s keeping the conversation going despite the warnings flashing in his mind and going off every time he blinks. If he needed a confirmation that what he saw in those soulless eyes were true, or if he needed someone to say he’s not alone in being completely done with this world he knew he wasn’t going to get it from Jiwon easily as he saw a cheshire grin smoothly spread over his thin lips.

“Actually, you’re quite the opposite.”

Hanbin looks down, disappointed by the lie. But then again, what was he expecting? It took a lot of courage for someone to admit they were like him.

“I like it!” Jiwon suddenly declares, louder than necessary seeing as it was just the two of them in the library.

“I need to go.” Hanbin abruptly stands and Jiwon doesn’t make a move to get up; instead, he nods like he understands the sudden rush despite it being totally uncalled for.

“Of course you do.”

That stops Hanbin from shoving pens into his case. “What?”

“I scare you, don’t I?”

“I don’t know what you-”

“You’ve never seen anybody like me, right?”

Hanbin sighs in exasperation before quickly dumping things into his backpack, “look I really-”

“What do we do, Kim Hanbin?” Jiwon tsks, “you can avoid me all you want. But I’m very~ very interested in you now.”

Hanbin lowers his face and practically shoves his whole head into the open mouth of his backpack in hopes that Jiwon can’t see his cheeks that are ready to burst with heat. He's just checking that he got everything, that's all. Just really checking. Double checking. He'll keep his head in here a little longer. A triple check can't hurt.

This isn’t embarrassment of the regular sort.

Much worse.

This is humiliation.

Kim Jiwon, despite being a tightly sealed secret file, can read him like an open book. Him. the one nobody paid any attention to. The one who could disappear just by side stepping into a dim corner. The student who everybody’s heard of at least once but ‘didn’t really know’ at all. The one not worth a spared glance.

If this human had anything close to guilt in him, it must have finally kicked in since Jiwon does kinda look like he regrets playing with Hanbin so much.

“I’ll tell you what though. We do have something in common.”

“Which is?”

Hanbin doesn’t understand why he’s still mumbling questions and feeding this conversation, nor does he understand his excitement. It's strange, but it’s like he can’t stop anymore. Everything about Jiwon, his aura his charm his smile even his good-for-nothing scent, is ripping out words from Hanbin’s throat and opening him up like an automatic sliding door.

“We both like rap music.”

Hanbin’s jaw drops.

Jiwon’s grip on his wrist, which Hanbin will admit he’s not sure when _that_ happened, tightens. “So we should get to know each other more. Who knows? Maybe we will have stuff in common, and maybe,” Jiwon finally gets up, straightening out in one fluid moment and tugging Hanbin closer. Standing together now, Hanbin’s ear is positioned right in front of Jiwon’s mouth. He holds his breath, as Jiwon lets one out to travel down and tickle the sensitive skin around his neck. “Just maybe, you’ll take an interest in me too.”

Almost as swiftly as he showed up, Jiwon strolls right out and disappears between two dark bookshelves in the references section.

Hanbin blinks at the empty space a few times, just to make sure he was truly gone before exhaling loudly.

Unfortunately, by the way his heart was pounding uncontrollably, it seemed that Hanbin was already pretty interested in peculiar student Kim Jiwon.

Now when did _that_ happen?


End file.
